


A Perfect Birthday

by nitohkousuke



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, HashiMada BigBang 2018, M/M, Uchiha Izuna Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 22:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitohkousuke/pseuds/nitohkousuke
Summary: Besides, his face is so much better in life. The crinkle in his eyes when he laughs. The way his lips twitch when he’s trying to suppress his laughter at important meetings when someone’s made a comment they shouldn’t have. His hands when they’re against his back. Warm and full of life and love and support. His long hair that cascades down his back, impossibly straight. That never tangles and feels like silk between his fingers. His pout when he thinks that Madara is perhaps being a bit too unfair.Perhaps Madara is a bit biased on that. Perhaps he has some personal claim.Madara plans the perfect birthday. The perfect day. And asks him to spend the rest of his life like this.For Week one of the HashiMada Big Bang: Hashirama's Birthday





	A Perfect Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> THERE IS PORN IN HERE THAT'S WHY IT'S EXPLICIT.  
> my laptop is broken. I wrote this at school. I SAID IT WOULD JUST BE A SHORT LUNCH DATE. How did I get here.
> 
> This is the first Naruto fanfic I've ever read. Hope its an okay addition to the HashiMada Big Bang

His legs dangle over the edge of the mountain. The village still has so much to go before it is what it should be. The buildings make an impressive view amongst the trees. Underneath him, Hashirama’s face has started to be carved into the mountain. It’s ridiculous, he thinks. He’s told Hashirama that countless times. Who needs a giant version of his ugly mug for the world to see? 

Besides, his face is so much better in life. The crinkle in his eyes when he laughs. The way his lips twitch when he’s trying to suppress his laughter at important meetings when someone’s made a comment they shouldn’t have. His hands when they’re against his back. Warm and full of life and love and support. His long hair that cascades down his back, impossibly straight. That never tangles and feels like silk between his fingers. His pout when he thinks that Madara is perhaps being a bit too unfair. 

Perhaps Madara is a bit biased on that. Perhaps he has some personal claim. 

But well, who could blame him? 

“A picnic date?” Hashirama’s voice comes from behind him. It would startle him if Hashirama’s chakra signature wasn’t so loud. Bright and strong and rooted through his steps. Madara doesn’t turn as he’s spoken too. It has nothing to do with the nerves in his stomach. It has nothing to do with the blush on his face. Uchiha’s don’t blush. 

“Did you think I would forget your birthday?” Madara says simply. “I suppose you probably did.” They have been busy. Swamped in work. Even if Madara has done all of the man’s paperwork, and Tobirama handles much of the other technical details, Hashirama has been everywhere and anywhere he’s needed. His charisma is needed to smooth out all tensions between clans. 

How can you argue with someone who shines like the sun? How can you disappoint someone who’s face is full of hope and love and aspirations? How could you ever let them down? 

His face turns a darker shade as he realizes just how mushy his stupid thoughts have gotten. Izuna had laughed at him this morning when he’d heard exactly what he was going to do. Which was rude. Madara just wanted this to be exactly what the man deserved. He was not.... soft. 

Warm, strong arms throw themselves around his neck, nearly knocking him off the side of the mountain. “I did forget! Madara, thank you! What a fantastic way to celebrate!” The man nearly squashes his life out of him, which is probably impossible, as the man fills him with life. Every look, every touch. It lights his heart a flame. It makes him feel on fire, sometimes like the flames will devour him whole. Which is impressive considering fire is his natural element and he has never felt like his flames weren’t his to control. 

“You’re gonna knock me off the mountain, you buffoon. Then you’ll have to spend your birthday healing my wounds from the fall.” There’s only teasing in his voice, but of course, Hashirama is Hashirama. He immediately detangles himself and hangs his head. An air of gloom surrounding him. 

Madara practically rolls his eyes back into his head. He cannot believe this man is the Hokage. With a sigh, he pulls himself up and turns to face the other, his face finally devoid of the blush that covers his cheeks. His stomach not devoid of nerves. With a fond smile that has a touch of irritation, he grabs the other by the collar, unfortunately even with the slouch, tugs him down to smash his lips against his. 

Hashirama takes no time to immediately wrap an arm around his waist, the other knotting itself in Madara’s hair. Madara moves a hand to his cheek, dragging his thumb across the skin. He bites his lips, roughly before pulling away. 

“You can make out with me after you eat lunch. I don’t want to the food to get cold.” Madara grumbles, his cheeks tinged red again. “And stop getting depressed so easily, it’s your birthday. You should be happy.” 

“But Madara!” Hashirama says in something that sounds like a whine. It’s ridiculous in his deep voice. “You being injured on my birthday would be the worst thing ever!” He crosses his arms before sitting down on the picnic blanket that Madara had borrowed from an elderly Uchiha Woman, who looked like she knew exactly what the man was going to do. 

“I still want to kiss you though. We can do that later I guess. Shouldn’t fill up on desert before the main course.” Hashirama starts, and Madara almost opens his mouth to say something. “Cream can be very filling after all.” 

Madara nearly drops the container of mushroom soup on the blanket with a curse. “You incorrigible sex addict, we are not fucking on the Hokage mountain. I don’t care if it’s your birthday. I am not dealing with your brother’s wrath or the scandal for the indecency.” His voice an entire octave higher, as his face turns a shade of red that could match his Sharingan. 

“You’re right. Tobi would never forgive me for making a spectacle for that. We should later in my office though!” He grins, shifting closer. “Privacy seals with the blinds drawn at an hour no one should bother us...” Hashirama’s face is far too serious for someone talking about fucking on his desk. 

“Maybe if your desk isn’t covered in paperwork. I have no plans on making my desk smell of sex.” Madara grumbles, trying to set out all the food. Trust this man to try to mess up his plans. “You will have me later. Do not worry. I have plans. I even got your brother and mine to take over for us for the day. No one is to bother us on anything official unless its an absolute emergency.” Madara refuses to meet his eyes when he says that. Hashirama knows what a big deal asking Tobirama is. Izuna is Izuna. As much as he’s a brat, he’ll do a favor like this without a big deal. Tobirama however...even if they are friends now...the look of incredibility on his face almost made Madara storm out the room after he’d spent so long to ask him for help. 

“A whole day...?” Hashirama hums for a moment leaning back on his hands. “With us starting with lunch on the Hokage mountain? Looking out on the village. Our dream essentially realized. My dreams and the love of my life.” Hashirama says fondly and Madara is going to choke on his embarrassment at this rate. That’s how he’ll die. Embarrassment. Because Hashirama looks so pleased when he says that. So pleased and fond. 

“I would have started earlier, but I thought you would appreciate sleeping in...” Madara mumbles, pouring his tea. He’d told Tobirama that no one was to wake him. Hashirama was usually an early riser. He always rose with the sun. But things had been hectic. There was so much to do. He could see the exhaustion on his face in between his smiles. This was needed. 

“Thanks, love.” Hashirama says softly, laying his head on his shoulder. There’s a pause as Hashirama sits up blinking. “Did you say I’d have you? As in have you have you? You rarely ever let me.... you really are spoiling me.” Hashirama laughs. “However, I want I suppose to? I can hardly wait. What a present.” Hashirama grins, and Madara finds that his face hurts from how red it is. He was hoping the fool wouldn’t recognize that comment to they were in the bedroom. Sometimes it really did take him so long to realize the words he’d said.  

“Later. We have plans for now. Lunch. A stroll. A spar. Something from that take out place you like for dinner. And then, you can have me. And I will spend the night. I cleared my plans for the following morning until the afternoon.” He had tried to do that for this morning, but he really had far too much paperwork. There had been a few additions in the past week. The Uchiha clan still needed some reorganization. Besides, waking up in each others arms after birthday sex was far more important. Especially considering his plans for later. The plans that weighed suddenly heavy in his pocket. There was no doubt, but that did not cast away nerves. Nothing ever did. 

Hashirama took a spoonful of the soup, blowing softly before eating it. He hummed for a moment, savoring it. “Did you make this, Madara? It’s really good. I knew you could cook, but I didn’t think Mushrooms was a common Uchiha ingredient.” He says this in between shoveling the soup in his mouth, and Madara wants to yell at him to be careful or he’ll choke. 

“Hn.” Madara sips his own soup slowly. It’s an okay taste. Mushrooms aren’t terrible. He’s much fonder of Tomatoes. “I... suppose I asked your brother for the recipe.” He admits, which was.... a moment. Tobirama couldn’t believe him when he had. However, Madara knew it was a dish their mother had made before she had passed. She knew it was a dish that Hashirama loved, but loved when it was made the way their mother did. The ingredients weren’t the easiest, as some were from old Senju grounds. However, he knew it had to be perfect. “I hope...it is acceptable.” He grumbles, taking a long sip from his tea. Another thing that isn’t his preferred tastes. It’s not nearly sweet enough. But he supposes Hashirama is too sweet to have a sweet tooth. 

“It’s good.” Hashirama smiles softly as he places the dish down, giving him such a love filled look Madara has to look away the heat returning to his face. “Thank you, love...” Hashirama leans forward to brush his lips against his cheek, the smell of mushroom almost ruins it, but Madara is strong.  

“Tch. It is your birthday after all.” Madara has no idea how he’s going to survive this whole day. Between his embarrassment and his nerves, he feels like he’s going to explode into a thousand pieces. But the second he’s able to turn and meet Hashirama’s eyes, the look of peace that settles in his soul tells him exactly why. 

Hashirama shifts to lay his head on his shoulder, enjoying the cool breeze and the smell of Autumn. ”I love Autumn, you know?” Hashirama starts and Madara bites his tongue to stop his comment about how Hashirama loves all the seasons. “It’s cool. It’s the weather that settles into winter. Not too hot and not too cold. A lot of people think I’d hate it. Because of my affinity. That I’d love spring more. But there’s the harvest. Fall to so many people seems like death, but if they could just look and see...” He shifts a hand to lace his fingers with his own. “They’d see there’s so much more than that.” 

Madara knows the double meaning there, and curses Hashirama for being so good at being so....good? Here he is trying to make a day all about him, but Hashirama still manages to slide in something about Madara. Even though he doesn’t deserve it. Even if he doesn’t deserve any of this. 

“Don’t think like that.” Hashirama moves immediately taking his face in his hands, forcing him to look up at him. “It’s my birthday. No self-loathing allowed.” Hashirama presses their foreheads together. “Have I told you Madara? That you were like a gift from the divine? You always have been. You always will be. This dream would be so empty without you. Where would I be without you by my side....” Hashirama’s brought himself to tears. He can feel the hot liquid on his own cheeks. Trust this man to out romance him on his own birthday. Madara knows he’ll never be able to beat him at this game anyway, so he just accepts it.  

“...And you as well, dear.” Madara mumbles. He’ll allow this weakness just for today. “Where would I be without you.” He leans forward to catch his lips softly, before leaning back to wipe his tears. “We should pack up. There’s much more for us to do. I need to drop these off first, which is where our stroll starts. Then its a long part through the forest to our usual sparring ground.” Getting up, he starts to pack up the supplies back into the basket. Hashirama folds up the blanket handing it over to him before Madara can do it himself. 

“A stroll through the forest? To see all the leaves changing color?” Hashirama smiles softly, lacing his fingers in Madara’s free hand. “That’s one of my favorite things to do...” 

Madara huffs tugging him down the side of the mountain, mumbling that of course it is. It’s his birthday, and Madara knows him well. Though, honestly, anyone can see the adoration Hashirama has for changing leaves. He’s always worn everything on his sleeve. 

The walk down the mountain is peaceful. Hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder. They don’t usually walk like this. It’s not as if the whole village does not know about them. One would have to be blind to not realize what they were to each other. However, Madara was never one for public displays of affection. He allowed the touches from Hashirama because well the man was very tactile, how could he not? But other than that, Madara was too easily embarrassed for anything else.  

They approach his house quickly, and Madara takes a look over the Uchiha compound with pride. He knows his decision will mean changes, but he knows that Izuna will not mind. After all, he knows Tobirama and him will follow them shortly. He’s not blind contrary to popular belief.  He squeezes his hand before letting go to put the basket in the front foyer, and quickly returning to Hashirama who laces their hands as if they’ve been apart for hours. 

The forest really is breathtaking. The leaves are in spectacular shades of red and yellow and orange. The forest has that smell that always reminds him of Hashirama. Considering the man might as well be a tree, it makes sense. It’s not a bad thing. To smell of earth and wood. To make him feel anchored when his own mind threatens to burn him from the inside out. He’s grateful. 

“...I’m glad Touka is marrying Mito.” Hashirama mumbles, after some time. His gaze is focused on the strips of sky in between the tops of trees. “Mito is really nice, but...I...” Hashirama swallows. “Neither of us would be happy. I would do it for our village...” 

“Your cousin was practically throwing herself at the Uzumaki...” Madara mumbles but he is grateful. Though he remembers Tobirama’s words later that night. The man had told him he would offer himself before he would let his brother do that to himself. But how could Madara have allowed that? To do that to Izuna? Sure, there could be romance behind closed doors, but... 

“Mm, that’s true.” Hashirama squeezes his hand tight, leaning slightly on him. “There’s only one person I’d ever want to marry. I’ve always wanted to marry you know?” Hashirama laughs and Madara will is going to murder him is Hashirama decides to propose haphazardly in the middle of this walk. After all his plans. It’s such a Hashirama thing to do, and he would say yes without missing a beat. But he would be pissed. “He used to be really bad at skipping rocks.” 

“Tch, one day, I think you’ll marry him.” Madara mumbles. He doesn’t want to make it seem like he doesn’t want to marry him. However, he needs to steer the conversation away from this. He absolutely cannot let Hashirama ruins his plans. “But for now...” Madara nods to the clearing. The sound of the waterfall is loud from the river that comes through this spot. The terrain is already incredibly worn from their previous spars.  

“Oh?” Hashirama laughs, squeezing his hand tight before letting go and running off to a tree on the other side of the clearing. He quickly sheds his clothing till he’s down to only a pair of pants and Madara drags his eyes down the newly exposed skin. He can count every scar he’s ever given this man. Ever scar he hasn’t. He knows exactly how the warm muscle front feels beneath his fingers. He knows exactly what sound Hashirama makes when he leaves marks on his sides. 

With a sigh, Madara runs over to him, stripping himself of his own clothes. usually he prefers to fight in his clothes. However, if he wants to be decent to pick up something from a vendor on the way back, he should perhaps wear less clothes. He can feel Hashirama’s gaze on his back, and before he can even turn around, Hashirama traces what he assumes are scars on his back. 

“You’re gorgeous, you know?” Hashirama breathes hotly into his ear. His arms now wrapped around his front. “I can’t wait to properly unwrap my present later.” Hashirama presses a kiss to his neck before pulling back. 

“I got you an actual present too.” Madara sends him a glare, Sharingan whirling to life. “I’m not some cheap whore.” He knows Hashirama knows he takes no offense to his words.  

“The picnic was lovely too! So is this whole date” Hashirama laughs, moving more to one end of the clearing. Madara mentally traces the scars down his back. 

“There’s more. But I won’t give you your present any earlier than tonight.” Madara frowns, moving himself to the other side of the clearing. He can already feel Hashirama’s pout. “And I will NOT give you any hints on what it is” He says before Hashirama can open his mouth. 

“I guess I’ll just have to look forward to it.” Hashirama laughs before giving him a grin. “I’m so excited to fight you again. It’s been so long. We’ve been so busy. The usual rules right?” And just as Madara opens his mouth to answer, Hashirama’s already charging at him. 

Their match is as it always is. How it always will be. They’re always evenly matched for each other. Every time Madara thinks his jutsu was too much fire and maybe he’s actually burned the idiot this time, Hashirama’s incased himself in wood. Every time Hashirama pauses worried he’s actually mortally wounded the other, Madara’s behind him. 

It’s no wonder no one on either side realized they have never ever in their entire life fought each other seriously. Even when they used their ultimate techniques, there was never any desire to harm the other seriously behind it. Even before they’d really considered the truce. 

Hashirama is breathtaking like this. The determination on his face. The way he actually uses that brain in his head that Madara knows he has but seems to not use so often. There’s away he fights, so sure of himself that fills him with pride. He always keeps himself so firmly rooted. He always makes the world bend for him. Twists his environment to work for him. Makes his opponent more for him. It’s so different from the way Madara works. 

Madara is about moving around his environment, or burning everything until it makes a path for him. He’s never in one place too long. They’re so different. Opposites. Hashirama breathes life into the ground, and Madara chars it beyond recognition. And somehow, even though Hashirama is life and he is death. They fit against each other so well. 

It’s as if they were made for each other. 

The Sharingan has many uses. With it, he can analyze his scenario. He can see possibilities. He can see clearer than most. He can copy any technique. He can visual memorize anything. So maybe, he memorizes the way Hashirama looks when he strikes. Maybe he memorizes the way Hashirama bites his lip when he’s trying to plan for the next move. The way his brows knit together in determination. The way sweat rolls down his front. The sounds he makes in the heat of battle. Perhaps, it’s a misuse of his kekkai genkai, but he can hardly bring himself to care. 

“You’re distracted, Madara” Hashirama calls behind him, and Madara turns to strike. Hashirama catches his lips in his quickly, catching him by surprise. He slips a hand in his hair and tugs, eliciting a moan from him. Before Madara can find himself, Hashirama has him pinned to the ground, hands above his head 

“I win!” Hashirama laughs, leaning down to bring their face only inches apart 

“You cheated!” Madara growls, trying to pull himself out of grip. “Would you kiss your enemies like that? You absolute moron!” He moves his leg up to grind his knee hard against the other, and Hashirama laughs before letting out a moan in response. 

“It’s my birthday, I can’t cheat” He nods to himself, his logic apparently infallible. “And of course, I’d never kiss my enemy. But you’re my lover and all is fair in war and love, right?” Hashirama catches his lips again, biting them before Madara can protest. “Besides, the sun is setting. We’ve been sparring for hours. We should head out before the stand closes right? We were gonna get something quick. I don’t want to take too much time from the main event.” Hashirama grins wide and Madara looks away, unable to hide the blush from his cheeks. 

Had he really been thinking about Hashirama for the past few hours? He supposed that wasn’t entirely uncommon these days. Sometimes, he’d spend his morning strolls thinking about their relationship and his place in the world. Still, it was embarrassing. 

“Get off of me. Put your clothes on, and yes, I’ll buy you whatever you want from that fried stand I know you’ve been buying lunch from for the past couple of months.” Madara tries to struggle more, until Hashirama finally pulls himself off of him. 

“Don’t tell Tobi. He said I need to eat healthier. And I will. I will. But their food is sooo good.” He can hear Hashirama’s whine as he pulls on his clothes over his sweat covered body. Perhaps, they should have washed off in the river before heading out. Though, he knows Hashirama. He would try to have in there in the river. That man just seemed to love public sex. It was…..indecent honestly. 

“As if I want your brother to come at me for that. Besides, you’re the healthiest man I know.” Madara pulled himself to his feet, going over to throw his clothes over. Grumbling at how the stuck in places he wasn’t fond of. 

“Only because I get a daily dose of Vitamin M~” Hashirama grins. 

“What on earth is vitam-“ Madara starts before red comes to his cheeks and he immediately takes long hard steps towards the village. “Don’t you DARE.” 

But Hashirama is already in front of his, kissing him before pulling back, eyes wide with amusement. “M stands for Madara!” 

He narrows his eyes at him for the ridiculous comment. Because it’s untrue. It’s so incredibly untrue. Madara has done nothing for this man. Nothing but cause grief. He thinks about the day Izuna was injured. When Izuna nearly told Madara to refuse peace. When Hashirama ignored both of them and immediately tended to Izuna’s wounds. What would have happened if Madara had listened to his stubborn Uchiha pride? Where would they be now? Or what about every time Madara had caused tensions between clans or village? Hashirama had to smooth every single thing out. He did so, of course, without difficult. Still, wasn’t it stressful? Wasn’t Madara the opposite of a vitamin? He was like a poison. He- 

“I said no self-loathing.” Hashirama’s voice is even as he grabs Madara’s face again, pressing his forehead against his. Even now, Madara can’t stop hating himself for more than a few hours even when requested of him. Even now, Hashirama finds it effortless to come to his aid. 

If anything, Hashirama is the vitamin that keeps Madara whole. 

“Fine. Fine. Let’s just get dinner before the stand closes.” Which, Madara realizes is much sooner than he thought. It’s late. He didn’t think they’d spar for this long. Though really, he’s a fool. They always spar this long. 

“We can always get take out and eat it at your house.” Hashirama suggests as they enter the village gates. Take out is probably what they’re going to do. 

“At your house. I want to spend the night at your house….Your brother is with mine back at the Uchiha compound.” He needs to be there for part of his plan. For what he wants to say. Hashirama hums for a moment before nodding. “If Tobi isn’t there to walk in on us, then that sounds good. Hm, I’ve really got to think how I want you then. So I can think about it every time I go to sleep again.” Hashirama says in a tone that makes his face flush again. 

“We’re in public.” Madara hisses elbowing him. “There could be children around. Watch your words.” Even if there weren’t, and really it’s late most children are in bed now, Madara does not want to have to look these store vendors in the eye another day with knowledge of exactly how he beds the Hokage. It’s bad enough they already know. He doesn’t need them to know how. 

“Sorry, Sorry” Hashirama lifts Madara’s hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it softly. He can feel his thumb brush over his hand soothingly. His eyes shine apologetically up at him. It’s the patented Hashirama puppy dog pout. Madara has never found a way to counter. So instead, he tugs him forward towards the stand that’s now insight. 

“I hope you know what you want, they close in ten minutes. Don’t order the whole menu.” Madara mumbles trying to turn the conversation to something else. There’s still color in his cheeks. 

“Hokage-sama! Uchiha-sama! It’s good to see you two. You came just in time! Do you want your usuals?” He asks and Madara can feels Hashirama’s gaze on him. 

“Yes. Our usuals please. To go since I know you’re closing soon.” Madara nods and Hashirama tentatively takes a step closer brushing their shoulders. When it’s just the two of them, Madara could care less what the other does. But in front of other people, it’s just…embarrassing. It is Hashirama’s birthday however, so he tolerates it. He might even lean into the other as well. 

“Here you go.” The owner says handing them a bag. “Dinner for the happy couple. I threw in some extras on the house. After all, it is your birthday, Hokage-sama.” The owner laughs and then refuses Madara’s money, which he frowns at, but Hashirama gives him a look before he can fight it. 

The second they leave the stand, Hashirama takes his food from the bag, and opens the container to munch on it. 

“Can you at least wait until we get to your house?” Madara hisses trying to pull the bag out of his grasp. Really, this man was the leader of the village. Didn’t he have any manners? Was he really just going to shove food in his mouth as they were walking down the main stretch of the village? Even if it was late, it was improper. 

“I want to be done eating as soon as possible. After all, it’s desert than I’m really looking forward to.” Hashirama says like there isn’t an innuendo in his words. Madara nearly drops the bag before giving him a glare. He waits a moment, until Hashirama is too absorbed in shoving food down his throat that he’s sure he’ll choke on shortly, for him to eat his own food. After all, if he doesn’t, Hashirama is just going to watch him eat impatiently. That’s not the sort of attention he really wants from the man. 

Perhaps dinner first and then his later plans was a mistake. He probably won’t even get a chance to let his stomach settle, knowing how the other is. So, he’ll just have to finish eating with enough time in the walk back to Hashirama’s house to get as much of that as he can. Otherwise, we’ll he’ll just have to tolerate it. 

The second Hashirama opens the door, he takes their bags and tosses them to the garbage. It misses of course, and Madara makes a comment about how Tobirama isn’t going to be pleased at him trashing their kitchen again. 

“Who cares.” Hashirama says quickly pinning the other to the wall. Madara finds himself started, something that a few years ago he would berate himself for. The guards he put up around Hashirama have long been gone however. He has long put his life in this man's hands. His heart as well. He knows Hashirama has done the same. Maybe even sooner than he had. What a fool. 

He presses his lips to the shell of his ears, dragging his tongue underneath it. “Madara...” Madara shivers lightly, moving one of hands to wrap around his waist, the other tangling in his hair. Or as much as he can ‘tangle’ in the man’s impossible straight hair. “Madara...” He whispers hotly against the wet skin. “I want you. I always want you. You’re gorgeous. Dangerous and powerful.” He whispers against his skin, kissing down his neck, leaving marks he’s going to have to ask the other to heal later. Or maybe he won’t. They don’t have any important meetings tomorrow. It’s not as if their secretaries aren’t aware of their involvement. “Smart. Kind. Passionate. The only man to ever match me.” He leaves a particularly dark mark on his collar bone that makes Madara close his eyes with a hiss. 

“I should be the one showering you with praises, love.” Madara tugs on his hair a little. He can feel Hashirama shiver just a little. Pet names for Madara are reserved for the bedroom or private moments. They always drive the other wild. He loves every moment of it. “How you’re the only man to ever match me. The kindest one this world has seen. The only man I’ll ever deem worthy. The only man I’ll ever get on my knees for.” Madara moves to press a kiss against his neck, for a moment feeling Hashirama’s pulse against his lips. It’s the most vulnerable spot for Shinobi. To let someone see it, nothing was more intimate. 

Hashirama moves quickly, catching Madara’s lips with his own hungrily. It catches him off guard again. He bites his lip hard, drawing blood. The iron taste quickly fills his senses, as Hashirama shoves his tongue in his mouth. One of Hashirama’s hands tangles itself in his hair with the skill of someone who’s done it enough times to know how to not ruin the mood with the state of his hair. He tugs it in just the right spot to make Madara groan into his mouth. His other hand shifts, to find itself under fabric to dig his nails into flesh. 

“It’s my birthday. I want to shower you in praise. I want to make you feel loved. I want to have you. You said I could, didn’t you?” Hashirama pulls away to whisper that hotly into his ear with need. “I rarely ever get to. You’re always so insist on telling me how fantastic I am. But you...you are everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’ve wanted you for long, Madara. Every battle, I dreamt of you underneath me. I dreamt of you fucking me into the ground. Do you know how many times after our fights I spent in my private quarters, my hand around myself and your name on my lips? Do you know how many times I dreamt of the moments we have now?” 

“Bastard.” Madara hisses. “It’s your birthday, and you won’t even let me out romance you. I suppose, I must acknowledge you as the victor there.” Madara can hardly hear his thoughts through his arousal beating loudly between his ears. He grinds himself roughly against Hashirama’s thigh. 

“How quickly our war would have been if I we had just fucked in the middle of the battlefield? How more smoothly would the village’s creation have been had we been fucking since the truce? Oh, I know. I think often of our wasted moments, Hashirama. I tend to make up for them with every breath I have. With every moment we are alone. I will have you for a thousand life times. But for now? I suppose I can give this one to you, Hokage-sama.” 

Hashirama quickly grinds his palm into his erection once. “I’m going to make you scream that, Madara.” He grins. How he’s able to say something like that both with a look of lust and adoration is beyond him. He’s an impossible man. “I’d love to fuck you on the counters. The floor. Every wall. I’d love to mark every ounce of my house with you in ever place we haven’t yet...but...” He bites his ear lobe roughly. “I have yet to have you in my bed. I want to see what you look like panting with need against my favorite sheets. I want to see your hair like a halo around your head as you take me. Maybe, if you’re up to it, I want to see you ride me. To watch your back arc, glistening with sweat that’s entirely my doing. I wa-” 

“Are you going to fuck me or what!?” Madara hisses, grinding into Hashirama’s hand with need. “Stop telling me how you’ll have me and have me, you insufferable tease!” He’s never been a patience man, and he really was trying to have some for this man. There is a limit. He finds his Sharingan is whirling in eyes. 

And just like that, Hashirama picks him up and slams him on the bed with all the force only a man who is called God of the Shinobi could ever do. “Have I ever told you” Hashirama mumbles as he kisses his skin, leaving a mark on his other collarbone. “How beautiful the Sharingan looks on you? I know what it’s capable of. The power it holds. I know there is no one in your clan who can match your expertise with it. It’s wonderful.” Madara slips a hand back into Hashirama’s hair and tugs impatiently. 

That earns him a laugh from Hashirama, who easily undoes every part of Madara’s clothes with the skill of someone who has done it a thousand times. Who will do it a thousand times more. In no time at all, Madara can feel the cold air against his skin. Hashirama moves quickly, dragging his tongue over every single scar that marks his body, leaving hickeys over particular scars that Madara knows Hashirama is remembering. Perhaps, its morbid to remember the places where he’s nearly killed his lover. To find the spots where they’ve connected in battle strangely arousing. But it’s simply how they are. 

“Are you going to fuck with me your clothes on?” Madara hisses tugging on Hashirama’s clothes. “I don’t care if it’s your birthday, I want your skin beneath my hands.” And Hashirama laughs before quickly shirking off his own clothes. 

“I just wanted to hear you ask for it, love~” He laughs, leaving a trail of kisses down his front. He moves quickly, dragging his tongue down the side of Madara’s length, dragging his teeth down the tip. Madara hisses tugging on Hashirama’s hair. Hashirama laughs against his skin, earning another tug and a growl. The man continues to lap at the sides, to presses kisses against him. He shifts, moving a calloused hand to grasp him before without warning bringing him into the mouth so he can suck hard on the tip and release him with a loud pop. 

“You fucking tease.” Madara whined, knowing very well he wasn’t going to get Hashirama to suck him off. “Are you going to-” 

Hashirama, somehow between his whining, has taken the lube from his drawer, lubed up his fingers, and slides a digit in all the way to the knuckle. 

“Bastard!” Madara hisses, completely caught off guard. He tugs on Hashirama’s hair harder, he’s surprise he doesn’t get fistfuls of it with the force. He hates how the man is like this. Tease him, make him impatient, and then surprise him. It’s always been the way he was. 

“Oh, but you love me, Madara. Don’t you.” Hashirama curls the finger lightly, before sliding it in and out at the most insufferably slow pace Madara has ever known. “Tell me, how much do you want more of me? Hm? How much do you want your Lord Hokage to fill you?” 

“Fuck you!” Madara curses, glaring with the full force of his Sharingan at the other man. “I’m going to fucking-” 

Hashirama takes that moment to slide another finger in him, scissoring his entrance. Madara curses, tears coming to his eyes. “That’s not what I want to hear, darling. Maybe I’ll just use my fingers forever then. I guess, you’ll never have me inside you.” 

Madara hates him. He hates him. He knows that he’s going to. He knows he has to wait until the other has prepped him regardless of everything else. Still, this man knows exactly how to get under his skin and drive him absolutely up a wall. “Fuck. You.” He won’t give in to him yet. He knows that’s how Hashirama likes it anyway. 

“Oh, Madara....” Hashirama purrs, moving his fingers faster in and out of him. Every so often he stops entirely and goes back to a slow pace. The back and forth makes Madara curse loudly and hit his head against the pillow. And without a warning, which is how Madara likes it anyway, Hashirama slips a third finger in him. Madara’s eyes snap open again with a hiss. “Fuck!” 

“That is what I’m going to do, dear” Hashirama says in a tone that Makes Madara want to flip the man over and fuck his stupid fucking mouth for the sheer insolence. Bruise his pretty little lips. Make his voice hoarse so that the entire committee can only guess why their dear Hokage has a sore throat. It, however, is not his birthday. So, he lets the asshole do as he wants. That’s what he’s going to say is why he lets him continue. 

It feels like an eternity that Hashirama moves in and out of him with his fingers. It’s probably only a few minutes. The bastard stops entirely, the three fingers filling him to the knuckle, fingers spread and curled. He drags his fingers tips, practically ghosting the curve his dick, dragging nails against his balls. 

“Tell me how much you want me. Tell me how much you love me. Madara. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me that you want me to have you. Tell me how much you need this. I won’t move until you do.” Hashirama gives him a smile that only makes the heat come harsher to his cheeks. 

“Fuck.” Madara cries, trying to press himself harder against Hashirama. “Fuck. Fuck.” He whines. His pride still preventing him from submitted. 

“You look so beautiful like this. You’ll look even better when I’m filling you entirely, won’t you? A sight only I’ll ever get to see...” Hashirama purrs, pressing his thumb harder into the tip. “Won’t you submit to me, Madara? Love? Dear? Darling?” 

“Fuck me, you asshole. I want you to fuck me. I want you to have me.” Madara arches his back into his touch. “I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much it permeates my every being.” It wasn’t just a moment of passion. It was true. The Uchiha loved hard and strong. A bond the Uchiha created meant more than anything else to them. It was why they kept everyone at an arm’s length. What power people would have if it was given to the wrong person. “Hashirama. Hokage-sama. Please.” 

Madara’s eyes are closed tight but he can feel the huge stupid grin on the man’s face. God, he was like the sun even with his eyes closed. Blinding him. 

“Of course, Love.” Hashirama pulls his fingers out, and Madara lets a whine at feeling so empty. He can hear the sound of lube that lets him know that soon won’t be the case. He feels Hashirama’s hands on his hips, steadying himself. He feels Hashirama’s tip at his entrance, shivering in anticipation. “Ready, dear?” 

“Get fucking on with it.” Madara hisses, angling his hips to press the tip into himself. Or he tries to, Hashirama holds him down. 

“Patience, Patience~” Hashirama says before slowly pressing himself into him. Madara grips the sheets hard with a loud hiss. His eyes are clenched as tight as he can, letting small whimpers out as Hashirama moves slowly, slowly into him. It’s only a few moments before he can tell the man is entirely inside him. 

“Madara...” Hashirama says softly, and Madara snaps his eyes open to berate him for not moving. But the soft loving look stops him. His eyes are filled with love and lust and adoration and the hope and warmth that Madara knows will last a thousand lifetimes. What has he done to deserve this man. What has he done to deserve him? 

“You’re beautiful.” Hashirama’s voice has the same softness. And it makes his stomach flip over a hundred times, but now isn’t the time to recite poems about their love. He wants him to fuck him into the mattress. To ruin him so the next morning the entire village knows exactly what they’ve been doing. Really even with their silencers and the chakra suppression seals, he’s sure the entire village does know. Or at least Tobirama does, judging by the bags under his eyes and glares he gets from the man after every time they fuck. Being a sensor has its disadvantages. 

“I love you Hashirama with all my heart and soul, but if you don’t move, I’m going to remove you from me, flip you over, and ride you into your mattress birthday or no birthday” Madara’s hisses, clenching himself tight around the other. 

“On my birthday? Hm, I can’t have that. Though perhaps, later?” God, Madara already knows the man is going to want a few rounds from him. Why. There’s only so much stamina he has. How is this man limitless? 

“Then move!” Madara curses, trying to push against the other’s restraints. 

And before Madara can continue cursing him, Hashirama pulls himself out entirely and shoves the entirety of himself into him roughly, quickly with no warning. It makes Madara curse louder than he has the whole night, throwing his head back, tears at his eyes. 

“More. Harder. Faster. Destroy me.” Madara whines. He’ll be embarrassed about this later, but for now, he’s far too aroused to have any sort of control over his mouth. 

“You’re so good like this...” Hashirama purrs, repeating exactly what he’s done over and over only ever so slightly faster each time. The bare increase of speed is enough to make Madara’s head spin. “So unguarded. So honest. I love you Madara. You know? So much.” 

“Fuck.” Madara curses. “I love you too, Hashirama” Anything to get him to go faster. To go harder. It’s not as if he doesn’t mean every word. “I want you to have me. I’ve been thinking about this day for months. For you to fuck me into your bed. For you to claim me....Please...Hashirama...Please.” 

That’s all it takes for Hashirama to pick up his speed. He takes a hand and wraps it around the other’s length, grip probably too tight for most men, but Madara has always liked it rough. He strokes him in rhythm with his own thrusts. They get faster and harder and more desperate. Madara can feel parts of him bruise with the force. There will be a lot of healing after this. Not that he can complain. 

“Hashi....I love you...Hashi...Hashi.... I love you...Hashi..” Madara whines. A nickname Hashirama only ever hears from Madara at the heat of the moment. Madara thinks it's too intimate to call him at any other time, and it’s shorter when Madara can barely coherently string together words. 

“Madara.....I love you...I love you.” Hashirama speaks, their voices muddling together. There’s no need for either of them to call out how close they are because they know. They’ve done this enough time. They’re in sync enough. So Madara comes first all over himself and Hashirama with a loud cry that he knows will make his voice hoarse in the morning. Hashirama follows suit filling him entirely with a loud whine. 

Madara slumps, completely and utterly spent. Hashirama pulls himself out, to flop on top of him and cover his sweat covered body in kisses and hickeys, mumbling I love you in-between each and every one. How this man has this energy after all of that is beyond him. Madara will never understand it. Madara would clean the cum from the two of them, but he can already feel the other lap it off of him. 

“Madara...” He hears Hashirama purr, nuzzling his face into his neck. “This is the best birthday ever... Thank you.” 

And that’s his cue. 

“Hn.” Madara stretches slightly. “Let me clean myself up. I want to sleep in a mostly clean bed after all.” He can feel Hashirama’s grin. Had the other man really forgotten that he was going to spend the night with him? Though, they had just fucked their brains out. He could give him that. 

“Don’t take too long... The bed is so cold and lonely without you.” Hashirama whines when Madara leaves to the bathroom to clean himself. He looks in the mirror, tracing fingers over ever mark the man has left on him. The nerves of what he’s about to do finally hit him. He knows the man will say yes, but still. It’s....a lot. 

“Close your eyes. I have one more present for you.” Madara says as he opens the door. 

“Another present?!” Hashirama covers his eyes excitedly and almost peaks when Madara berates him for it. What an absolute child. 

Madara takes the pouch out of his pocket, and he takes the pendant out of the pouch. His thumb brushes over the Mangekyo printed on one side, the Senju Symbol on the other. His father would roll over in his grave if he knew what he was doing. He would never approve. His mother...might have, but he doubted it. And Izuna? The rest of the clan? They knew exactly what he was doing. Izuna had helped him with the metal work as much as one was allowed to with the tradition of making these after all. 

“Keep your eyes closed.” Madara says firmly, taking his hands and placing the pendant in them. He has no idea how this works in the Senju clan. He really should have asked. It’s probably flowers crowns and planting trees or something like that. He has no idea if Hashirama knows what it even means. “Open them.” 

“Senju Hashirama.” Madara starts the second Hashirama stares at him and then the pendant in his hands, Madara’s Mangekyo etched on the side visible. “You are my light. You are life. And I am death. Do not interrupt me.” Madara glares as Hashirama tries to smooth over his self-hatred. “You are day and I am night. You are life and I am death. You are warmth and I am the bitter cold. I am a man who is not good with feelings. Who holds everyone at arm's length. Who never thought I’d find someone who made me feel like I wanted to live. I had spent my entire upbringing as the middle child who went from being a spare to having the entire clan on my shoulders. That day you met me at the river?” 

Madara looks away for a moment. His heart is beating wildly in his chest. That day had changed his whole life. 

“That day was the first day I felt alive. Every meeting. Every battle. Every encounter. I feel more in love with you. I feared there would never be a day where our dream would come true. A dream I would have never dared to dream if it wasn’t for you. I think of the day you healed Izuna against my wishes. Even when I threatened to kill you. I think of where I would be without you...and it’s...not a place I ever want to be.” 

He brings his hand to his lips and kisses the pads of Hashirama’s fingers. An intimate gesture Madara almost never does. 

“So, I want to make sure that I am by your side at every moment I can be. I am a terrible man. And you deserve more. But I want you. I want to give you days like this for the rest of your life. Days where we spend time on the mountain overlooking our village. Walks through the village hand in hand. Spars where we are each other equal pushing each other to our best. Dinner where ever we want. Spending time in your house. That I hope could be ours. Whether it is intimate or simply in each other space. And then...sleeping the night together in each other's arms. To wake up every morning we can next to each other for the rest of our lives” 

His face must be the brightest shade of red that out does his Sharingan. It is Uchiha tradition to do this. Otherwise, he’d probably just throw the pendant at him and tell him to... 

“So, I ask you, Senju Hashirama, if you will marry me, Uchiha Madara? If you will spend the rest of your life with me.” 

Hashirama stares at him. He expects the other to tackle him, but instead, the man nods dumbly at him, eyes wet with tears. 

“Do you...put the....uhm.” Hashirama looks down to the necklace. Speechless, wow. This is an incentive to have more feelings then. If it’ll get the man to shut up sometimes. 

Madara takes the necklace and puts on him, and the second the clasp is down, Hashirama smashes his lips against his mumbling yes between every single desperate kiss. He pulls him into the bed, wrapping an arm around his waist and nuzzling his face into his neck. Madara presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I’m giving the Uchiha clan to my brother. I think he is more fit for leadership, after I groomed him into the role of course.” Madara mumbles. “Not that I’m not still...” 

“Of course, Of course, dear” Hashirama kisses his shoulder softly. 

There’s a long stretch of silence. Madara thinks of his past. His present. His future. To think he’d willingly marry into the Senju clan. To think he’d let his baby brother take over. To think he’d let Izuna be with Tobirama. To think they’d have their village hidden in the leaves. A future where no more children die in battle. A future where he could wake up and kiss the other every single morning. 

There really was no place he’d rather be. 

“Happy Birthday, Hashirama” Madara says curling more into the other. 

Here in his arms, Madara has never felt more at peace.


End file.
